


Steer This Wayward Ship Home (Till the Last Light Dies)

by AceQueenKing



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Foreshadowing, M/M, Pre-Canon, awkward dinner parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 01:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: Nihlus isn't the only one to see how Saren is changing.





	Steer This Wayward Ship Home (Till the Last Light Dies)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MundaneChampagne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MundaneChampagne/gifts).



> Sorry this is late - it got away from me! But I couldn't resist your prompts and had to try to combine two of your couples. <3

Nihlus fiddled with the horosk the entire flight out.

 He was nervous; couldn’t help it, really. Part of him was still running high on adrenaline from his last mission, and the other half of him hummed with dread. Part of him was looking forward to seeing Avi and Macen, and the other part of him wanted to run, as fast as possible, in the other direction.

 Saren, across from him in the pilot’s chair, was largely why he wanted to run.

 In all the ways he could describe Saren, the phrase “enjoys dinner parties” would not have ever entered his mind. And yet – and yet they were going, surprisingly. He hadn’t even gotten the sense that Saren’s arm had been twisted into it; Avi had asked them and before Nihlus could even bluff that they’d need to make sure that their duties were clear for that weekend, Saren had answered in the affirmative that yes, both he and Nihlus would be attending.

 Nihlus crossed his arms and studied Saren under the guise of inspecting the seal of his horusk – Avi’s favorite, and hopefully enough to distract him from noticing Saren’s gradually increasing explosions of anger. While no one in the universe knew Saren better than he did, even Nihlus felt most of the changes in his behavior he had tracked carefully over the last few months were a complete mystery.

 It bothered him.

 Sometime after Saren’s Accident (and it was always the accident in Nihlus’ mind, a loud booming noise that had shattered them both and barely built them back together again) – it had happened. Not right away, because that would have been obvious enough, but a few months after, when Nihlus had stopped mothering him, had trusted Saren to do his missions by himself again; it was at that time that Saren had somehow, immeasurably, changed.

 His moods, always mercurial, had turned downright foul. The atmosphere of their shared apartment had dipped below negative zero, with Saren brooding in silence for nights, saying nothing, and any comment of Nihlus’ ignored as if it was of no consequence. Saren, so known for his damn precise focus in each and every one of his cases began to stare into space, as if he was seeing something that Nihlus could not. His visits, home dwindled to the point Nihlus had been oh-so-gently prodded by the landlord that he should make sure to keep the tenants on the lease active so that his ex-boyfriend couldn’t break into his apartment.

 Nihlus didn’t like these changes.

 He doubted Saren was cheating; Saren was never the type for that, and frankly was more married to his job than anything or anyone else. Saren was lost, his focus ever wandering, on some issue that he didn’t trust anyone – or at least, not Nihlus, and certainly not Avitus – to share with him.

 He could only hope that Saren wouldn’t make a scene. The last thing Macen and Avi needed was to be consumed with the same worry that Nihlus had found himself utterly unable to shake.

 “Would you cease with your relentless mauling of that bottle?” Saren harrumphed from his spot across the aisle, just the latest in many temper explosions over something as insignificant as the crinkling of the label. It was an ill omen.

 “Sorry,” he said, but, as usual, Saren did not react.

 They rode out the rest of the trip in silence.

* * *

 

  Nihlus was thankful, as always, for Macen.

 Avi reminded him a bit too much like Saren – different because there would never be two Sarens, but similar. They hailed from the same area of Palaven; would have held the same marking if-if things were different. Avi was a bit easier going, which Nihlus imagined could only be a relief for Macen; a bit less dry in his humor, and certainly less dry in his drinks.

 Macen was the extrovert of their relationship, as Nihlus was in his, but Macen had a well-practiced ease that could only come from being a general for so many years. He embraced them both, offered them wine to “warm their tongues” for the horosk (Avi had bellowed yes first, but Nihlus was surprised to see that Saren nodded his acceptance as well). He fed them stories of life in the trenches that seemed almost insane after so many years of solo or small team work whenever a pause went on too long for his liking.

 Even Saren had not interrupted him.

 Nihlus slowly, gratefully, began to _almost_ relax.

 And the very moment he relaxed, he noticed Macen’s tell.

 It was a small thing, really, the twitch of an eye. Only on the left, and only when he looked at Avi. Nihlus’ nerves instantly returned, and he’d had to take deliberate care to avoid destroying the nice goblet that Avi had so nicely given him. It seemed to come up only when he talked about the future.

 So when Macen stood up before their dinner and announced he and Avi had something to tell them, Nihlus basically slammed back his entire shot of Horosk. Saren’s eyes narrowed – never a good sign.

 “Thank you both for coming. It is delightful to see you again.”Macen said, bowing slightly. Like most generals, he was a touch theatrical – and Nihlus wondered if perhaps Saren’s long-dead brother, too, was like this. “Avi and I have decided to announce our retirement.”

 Saren leaned forward, his head whipping around as if Macen had used a biotic pull on him. “What do you mean, _retiring_?” He said, in a voice that was almost whispered in fury, with eyes hard as coals. Nihlus pushed his seat back. He knew as well as Avitus that the only form of retirement Saren considered valid was being buried.

 “Exactly that. Avi has told the council he will be retiring at the end of the month; I’ve informed the hierarchy that I shall be stepping down at the same time.” So, they’d gone to the private sector. Unusual among turians but Nihlus could not blame them. Military – or Spectre duty, for that matter – didn’t leave a lot of time at home.

 “Is this a _joke_?” Saren stood, the Geth-like arm already cramping tight enough that Nihlus could see the barest beginnings of electrical sparks running down it. Not good. Not good. He turned toward Macen and did his best to try to cut off Saren’s erupting temper off before it exploded in a direction that neither of them wanted.

 “You’re not the kinds to just step down without a reason,” Nihlus said, and heard a shaky sigh of relief coming from Avi’s side of the table. He glanced toward the other turian’s eyes and saw thanks in them, and nodded slightly. “What sort of new adventure are you two going to be chasing? Something together?”  
  
“Something like that, yes,” Avi said, still sounding as tense as his ramrod stature indicated. Saren’s approval mattered to Avi, had always mattered – perhaps not to the same degree that it had mattered to Nihlus, but it mattered. He was their mentor, both of them, and despite his … entanglements with Saren, Nihlus knew that feeling of shame at not meeting Saren’s unerringly strict standards.  “We’ve decided to sign up for the Andromeda Initiative.”

 Saren opened his mouth and Nihlus quickly cut him off. They were on thin ground as it was. “What is that?”

 Macen, glancing toward Avi with a rather annoyed expression – he suspected he had interrupted one of Macen’s talk, and now the young general was trying to do nothing so much as stitch together the grandest highlights of his speech for an audience that clearly wouldn’t stand for it. It also said they had practiced this, which made Nihlus, somehow, feel even tenser. Whatever the Andromeda Initiative was, it was small enough that neither Saren nor he had picked it up on their radars – which meant it was either deep in the lunatic fringe, or they had a hole in their admittedly large net. Saren had been ruthlessly monitoring the better part of Palaven airspace for the last twenty years after all, regardless of it was his duty or not.

 “Well, boys, if I had to put it in one word, it would be: adventure.” Macen opened up his omni, and Nihlus watched with encroaching horror as it laid out what looked like a fool’s treasure: glittering planets, an inter-species crew, and all of it millions and millions of miles away, in another galaxy that would take over 400 years to reach. Macen and Avi had not just gone into the lunatic fringe, they had jumped off the deep end of it. The fact that the start date listed for first departure was just six years away – and that they were petitioning the Council for money for this pipe dream! – He did not need to look at Saren’s face to know what Saren would think of it.

 Jien Garson, the crackpot leader, was pleading them to apply, just apply, for a new future, in a new galaxy, free of the conflicts of their own – when Saren stood and, without a word, stalked off.

 “Saren!” Avitus cried out, with all the pain of a boy who had disappointed his father. Nihlus doubted it would have more effect. The old man was old-fashioned in many ways, but perhaps none so much as the fact that once he made up his mind, he would not be turned away. His self-righteousness was almost as tiresome as his racism, but Nihlus knew he’d been proven right on his instincts before.

 Saren stopped, turned back, his face a cold and furious snarl. “You are fools,” he said, jabbing one finger out. “To think merely going to another galaxy will change the fate of yourselves, or anyone else. You can travel 400 years, but you will find yourself no different. I expected better of you, Avitus,” he concluded; Avi flinched back as if he was shot, and Saren stalked out.

 Macen was up immediately; he strode the few steps across the table and wrapped Avitus in his arms; Avi crooned distress in his sub-vocals, and Nihlus felt guilty, more than ever.

 “I’m sorry,” Nihlus said, softly; Avi looked at him with piercing eyes, and shook his head. “I did not expect him to be so …hostile.”

“It’s not you,” Nihlus said, awkwardly, rubbing his fringe and desperately wishing Saren hadn’t gotten set off – again. “He’s been like this a lot lately.”

 “I’ve heard rumors,” Avitus said quietly; he took a step out of Macen’s arms and placed one arm on Nihlus’ shoulder. “They are saying that he is losing it, _frater_ ; The whispers from the council grow more frequent – and you know, better than most, I suspect…” Avitus let the thread hang there, and Nihlus did not pick it up. He swallowed, and caught Macen looking at him with what he suspected was pity, and his own anger swelled in his gut.

 “Get him help,” Macen whispered, as if that was _fucking_ simple, as if all he had to do was tell Saren he was lost – as if even _attempting_ to wouldn’t make him a dead man, or an abandoned one at the very least. Nihlus made a loud sigh and shook his head. He couldn’t deal with this; let Macen and Avi dream. It was hard enough to believe Garson could ever convince the council to invest in such a crackpot idea, anyway. More likely than not he’d be seeing them in a few years, and this would just be something they’d laugh about. No need to spend a long time saying goodbye.

 “Excuse me,” Nihlus said, “but I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t leave without me.”

 Neither Macen nor Avi tried to stop him as he pushed past them to get to the front door. He caught the reflections of them as they looked at him, their eyes suggesting nothing so much as pity.

 He couldn’t stand it, and if he slammed the door a bit – well, Macen and Avi would just need to deal with it. It wasn’t like they were planning on sticking around a while anyway.

* * *

 

He found Saren in the Captain’s chair of their small vessel. He did not react as Nihlus came to rest next to him; instead, sitting, stock still, eyes straight ahead to cold and distant stars in a constellation that Nihlus couldn’t quite pick out.

 “Hey,” he said, softly; this too made no reply, not even a turn of that chimerical head. Nihlus’ troubled heart struck into his stomach.

 “Idiots,” Saren muttered; he exploded into activity, hands caressing the dials and sending them back home to the Citadel (and when did the Citadel become home over even Palaven?). This was the only word he uttered as they hit the empty blackness of space, the stars winking past them.

 Nihlus tried to think of a way to bring up what had happened, to bring up the ways Saren had changed; to bring up the angry silences and the explosions of nihilism and the dark looks and dark spaces that Saren always seemed to be focused on, mentally. But there was no way to say it, not to him; not where Saren stared, unblinkingly, into that blackness, as if he expected it to talk back to him.

 So instead Nihlus reached out his hand, his cold fingers closing around Saren’s own.

 Saren startled, looking at him for a moment, then carefully squeezed his hand.

 He said nothing, and so Nihlus said nothing in return, but for the first time in the day, their silence was agreeable, and Nihlus, for the first time in so long, began to relax.

 He would just need to hold onto Saren, and hope it was enough; perhaps they could find their own cause that they could devote themselves to, if not one as fanciful as Macen and Avi’s. Perhaps they had the right path, but merely the wrong idea….

 With his free hand, he pulled up different charities on Palaven, paging through them.

 Maybe it was just as simple as getting Saren a new cause, something he could throw his power and focus behind.

 Retirement, he thought, might just suit him well, if he could convince him to take it. 


End file.
